


The Shout of Heavy Guilt

by astoryandasong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoryandasong/pseuds/astoryandasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to live the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shout of Heavy Guilt

Her father had once told her the story of Inanna, who had descended into the Kur. Innana, Isis, Ishtar, descending into the underworld. She wonders if they will tell the story of Dinah, who was dragged into hell, who hung on the rack. Dinah, who got down from the rack and picked up the knife. Who'd risen from the dirt and squinted her new-made eyes to sun.

Sam says she isn't the same woman who descended into hell, and of course he's right. Not even goddesses manage to walk away unscathed. Not even Innana, trickster goddess, thief and Queen of Heaven walked away without paying the price.

Dinah Winchester descended into the Kur and was gripped tight by an angel (or an ugallu, Dinah has wondered). Maybe that's why she can't leave it behind. In most stories, you have to walk out on your own two metaphorical feet.

Dad always used to snarl that it isn't a story, Dinah, it's not a fairytale. But it is and it isn't and she knows that she's part of a bigger story now. Chuck, Castiel, Sam, the Lord God himself- it's what they've been trying to tell her. She has a role to play, her own archetype, just not the one she thought. Not the one that Sam thinks or Dad tried to give her. Inanna would have understood. Some archetypes are easy for a girl like Dinah: sister, whore, protector, mother. When you become the meme, when you become the archetype, you give up parts of yourself. Well, she's been doing that all her life anyway and she's not as dumb as people take her for.

Sam snuck out with Ruby again, off to do whatever it is that they do. It galls her, makes her as angry as she's ever been in her life- she knows the sound of Sam's sleeping breath better than her own heartbeat and the minute it stopped she was awake and listening. In that first, horrifying year, Sam had been colicky and fussy, and Dad either drunk or busy chasing down somthing or other while a now five year old Dinah mothered Sam in a series of dingy motels. She would stay awake all night, listening for Sam's breathing, crying because she felt the loss of her mother somewhere indefinable and deep. Sam, in his arrogance, forgets these things. Forgets that she soothed his nightmares and tended his skinned knees and taught him how to read and write his own name.

Dinah gave Sam the luxury of a period of some kind of grace, innocence before knowledge. Maybe that's what he and her Father had in common- the righteous anger of that loss. Of Mary, of Jess, of the comforting presence of someone for whom you were the centre of the universe. As for Dinah, she remembers that only dimly in the feel of her mother brushing her once long hair or being swung into her father's strong arms, laughing.

She's never been the centre of anybody's universe, not by a long shot, not until now at least. Now there is an angel who tells her his secret doubts and hopes, who smiles small, secret smiles. If they win, Castiel will one day kiss her. Until then he will stand at her right hand. Before he can be a lover he must be a sword.

Dinah stuffs her spare clothes into her bag and leaves behind Sam's belongings, with Dad's journal balanced neatly on top. She writes no note and does not leave the number of the brand new disposable cell in the pocket of her new coat. The man's leather jacket which she once treasured hangs over the back of a chair. It won't fit Sam, not by a long-shot, but the symbolism pleases her. Her new coat is thigh-length black leather and conceals the knives she cannot yet bear to part with.

There's a hunt in Wisconsin and she can make it by nightfall if she doesn't take any breaks. It's an obvious poltergeist, and Dinah's been handling that shit since puberty. There's a pang as she packs he gear in the Impala as she thinks of Sam's face when he realises she's gone. Won't be able to pick up a trail either if she handles things right. Finally she leaves a voicemail for Bobby saying that she's fine but she's going solo on the road.

Sometimes sisters are more like mothers and sometimes hitting the road solo in a classic car stands in for walking out of hell. There are times when whores and madonnas kick off their shoes and steal the power for themselves. Rarer still, sometimes a girl like Dinah gets the chance to save the world.

She drives, and she doesn't look back.


End file.
